


A Storm in Winter

by HappyDagger



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Ramsay is Warden of the North, background schmackground, best read as if it's a dream lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger
Summary: So here is an encounter between, essentially, show!Ramsay and book!Euron.Only after I actually started this did I realize I really should have let someone else do it. I've already written Ramsay vs. Euron several times and should have given someone else a chance. D'oh!So please please please take this request if you have any interest and make VW even happier!!!
Relationships: Euron Greyjoy/Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Euron Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 29
Kudos: 60
Collections: Thramsay2020 Kinkmeme Event





	A Storm in Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VagrantWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagrantWriter/gifts).



Luton has the least-murderable face in Winterfell but Ramsay still wanted to gauge his eyes out when his head poked around the entrance to The Great Hall. He always enters silent as a spy and addresses the Warden of the North safely out of striking distance. 

“My Lord?”

Rubbing another headache from his temple, Ramsay raised his cup to his lips only to find it dry. _“What?”_

“There’s... someone at the gates, my Lord. He wishes to speak with you... about terms.”

Ramsay pet Kyra’s broad, sleek head. “What the fuck are you stuttering about? What terms? Is it a Lannister cunt or some lice-picking peasant who’s trying to fuck me out of money? What’s that you’re hiding?” 

Luton reluctantly pulled a scroll from behind his back. “From him... The Greyjoy.”

His fist tightened around his empty cup. “Balon is dead.”

“Yes, this would be one of his brothers, my Lord.”

Where the fuck was his cupbearer? “The madman that shoved Balon off a bridge?” Undercover of night and storm, no less. A weasely little coward, easy enough to picture.

“That’s the rumor, my Lord.”

“Well, rumors of fratricide ought’nt be trusted.” 

“Of course,” Luton laughed, but he hadn’t relaxed. “We have archers at the ready. It would be nothing to kill the Kraken for his impudence, you-”

Alert to a change in the air, Tansey raised her head. Her leash of heavy chain clinked, slithering against the floor.

Ramsay’s nails dug into the wooden cup. “Does he have something for me then?”

Luton’s shoulders dropped. “My lord, I wouldn’t trust a word-”

“Bring that here. Now. Break the seal and read it to me.”

  
  


Winterfell spread her gates open for Euron, welcoming him into the warmth. Flayed corpses hung upside down in the courtyard, a heavy-handed first impression to those entered. But Euron had been here before, just not in body. 

Even if he didn’t need the new, young Warden of the North, Euron would still be drawn to his primeval energy. Roose, the boy’s father, had been so cold, lifeless, unchanging, but his bastard burned hot and wild. Defeating Stannis proved him to be more than a simple barbarian, even though the winter weather worked in his favor.

Clearly, the bastard Warden kept his men in line, made them eager to stay in his good graces, and terrified of displeasing him. As a guiding light, terror burns bright but fast. His calculating father must have impressed on the boy the fine trap that honey makes. What a price he paid when his little treasures ran screaming from him.

Men in hats like sheathed cocks opened the doors to the wide-open, lonely hall where Ned Stark met friends and enemies alike for decades. Now a young man with bright blue eyes shining under a frowning brow welcomed Euron and his small party of mostly silent men with a blank stare. Two great dark hounds flanked him, one growling and baring its teeth, the other sat lifting and setting down one paw then the other and whipping its tail back and forth.

“Lord Bolton.” Euron bowed graciously and waved his man ahead. “I brought you gifts as a token of friendship.”

He didn’t spare the gold and silk a glance but kept staring down Euron’s good eye, without blinking. “Luton, count that out for me. Take every fifth coin for yourself.”

Luton approached the chest with a mix of skepticism and hunger. He licked his lips and bit one of the gold coins before counting. “It’s real, my Lord!”

“Wonderful. I read your proposed terms, Lord Greyjoy. Very bold of you.”

“Bold or practical? I’d leave you to rule the north, as is your right. You know Ned Stark’s bastard is coming to take it from you. You want your wife back, I want her half brother. We can make this a short negotiation, as I know you’d rather get back to your _hands-on_ work.”

“Let’s get to it then.” Lord Bolton smiled like a crocodile hearing a scuffle outside the hall’s doors. “What do you _truly_ have to offer me?”

Euron leaned closer and whispered, “Something you lost.”

The flash across Ramsay’s face disappeared instantly but couldn’t be mistaken. _“Show me,_ ” he said in a low and breathless voice.

“You’re amenable to the terms?”

“My men will grant you safe passage to The Wall, where the bastard is gathering a Wildling army. First…”

“Of course!” Euron gestured to his men. They brought a thrashing, blindfolded prisoner into the echoing hall. 

Ramsay gripped the dagger at his side, holding his breath. 

He must have been struggling for hours, if not the entire days-long journey. Theon kicked and slammed into his captors, slumping against them and fighting in turns.

Ramsay’s pulse raced hearing those same staunchly indignant, panting, guttural cries. He silenced the girls, who’d lept to their feet. 

“Get your hands off me!” Theon tore away, sensing he’d been presented. “Where is she?”

“Theon,” Euron scolded. “Behave yourself. You’re in front of a lord now.”

“Where is my sister?” 

“I hoped to present him on a leash,” Euron said with mock apology. “But after the shock wore off he became creative with it; desperate, like a cornered rat.”

One of Euron’s silent companions grabbed Theon’s shoulder to shove him down, only to receive a headbutt, swung hard from Theon’s hips, smashing the bridge of his nose. He’d spent months in the dark; learned to anticipate anything.

The fur stiffened on the girls’ haunches. Their quivering lips curled up over their fangs as Theon brought his fists down on the crown of silent Kraken’s head. “Where is my sister? Your niece?”

Euron grabbed a handful of Theon’s wild hair and pulled his head back to get his attention.

Bolting upright, Ramsay’s chair clattered to the stone floor behind him. “DON’T touch him!”

Theon froze and collapsed onto his knees, his bloodied lips parted. 

“Oh.” Euron tilted his head, eye shining. “Not fond of sharing? Write out a decree to for your armies to escort me and I’ll leave you to him.”

Using his bound hands, Theon pulled the blindfold down until it hung around his neck. 

His nephew and the boy were transfixed, each locked onto the other’s eyes. It left Euron feeling a bit ignored. 

“I thought you’d appreciate taking care of him yourself; hands-on.”

“Kill him? You brought your nephew here for me to torture and kill?” He seemed to direct the question at Theon.

“I’m returning your property in exchange for a simple favor.”

“They’re all wearing gloves,” Theon babbled at last. He broke away from Ramsay’s mad stare and watched Ramsay's man count the gold.

Ramsay sat down and scratched his dog’s throat and chin, shushing her whining. “Damon.”

An enormous guard opened one of the hall doors and peered inside. “My Lord?”

“Bring me parchment, a quill, and my _personal seal_.”

The man nodded and shut the great door behind him.

“I’ll take the order and come back to meet your men and return your prisoner. When will they be ready?”

“Soon,” Ramsay murmured. He turned his attention to the hound on his left, who was frothing at the chops, and pet it, sulking.

“Aren’t you pleased with what I’ve brought you? There are silks and rubies for you in the chest. See if they please you.”

“I’ve waited long enough to have him back.”

“We can exchange an army for a eunuch outside of Winterfell.” Euron bit his smirk. “You look like a jilted bride, little Lord. Is it because I brought Theon back and not your _Reek_?”

Ramsay tensed.

“He talked a lot through his fevered dreams. Surely you…” Euron’s laughing face twisted with false concern. “You didn’t honestly believe he… actually _loved_ you?”

Metal clunked against the floor as Lord Bolton and his beast both stood together. As if they'd both been affronted. 

“I’ll be good,” Theon promised softly. “Please, Master, I want to come home. I didn’t forget. I wouldn’t let him confuse me.”

“You’re only worried about your sister," Ramsay spat.

“Myranda was going to kill us. I had to. What would happen if your bride, a Stark, was murdered here? Yara will leave us in peace.”

“Yara is dead," Euron interjected. "Does your man know what the fuck quill and parchment are? Why is this taking so long?”

“Is it the chest?”

“I don’t know," Theon admitted. "But the leash will be soaked in poison tomorrow.”

Euron scoffed. “He’s lying.”

Bolton's grin spread across his wild face, wide and uneven. “He can’t lie to me.” 

Euron yanked Theon’s head back with a fistful of hair and put a sleek knife to his exposed neck. “Let us go now, or I’ll tear him apart in front of you.”

Euron’s men retreated but found the hall doors wouldn’t move a hair’s width, no matter how they shoved or pulled. 

_“Let us go now and we’ll tear him apart for you._ You must have supernatural abilities, that’s what my girls have been saying since you got here **.** _Rip him_.”

Euron pulled Theon up to shield himself.

Luton grinned and chased down one of Euron’s men.

At last, the screams stopped.

Theon pried an eye open. He’d curled into a tight ball. 

Kyra happily licked off the gore which had sprayed and splattered into his face. She wagged her tail and nuzzled her broad head under his hands, expecting his affection. 

On the ground behind Theon, Ramsay hacked at what was left of Euron’s neck, working to sever the spine. He put a boot on Euron’s shoulder and wrenched his head free by twisting and pulling. 

Luton approached the last Kraken, heavy with exhaustion from killing the man’s comrade. The Kraken had shoved himself into a corner, brandishing a knife while Tansy paced in front of him, eager for the command. 

“Don’t kill that one,” Ramsay said. He tossed the Kraken his master’s head. “Take that to Yara Greyjoy as a gift from her brother. Damon, open the doors.”

Luton collapsed, his face a blotchy purple.

“Fucking great!” _Oh well._ Poisoned treasure could be useful later. Ramsay stole Euron’s gloves off his corpse and marched back to his table.

His eyes still squeezed shut, Theon had wrapped his arms around Krya’s thick neck. She kissed his ears.

Tansey trotted over to sniff his hair and shove her bloody snout under his arm, knocking him down. They both fled like minnows from a shadow when Ramsay stood over them in the pool of Euron’s blood. 

Theon cowered, covering his face when Ramsay threw something at his stomach. He slowly opened an eye and found Ramsay’s empty cup in his lap.

“I killed or broke my last three servants.”

“Oh.” Theon rose to his feet carefully. 

“Hurry up, I’m fucking thirsty.”

“Yes, Master.” 

Kyra trotted happily beside Theon as he brought Ramsay his spiced wine. 

“You smell like shit. We’ll have to wash that stench off of you,” Ramsay said into his cup.

“Yes, Master. Thank you.”

“That’s enough for today, Damon. Tell everyone else to piss off.” He turned to Theon and hung an arm around his boney shoulders. “We both need a bath.” He fingered the rag tied around Theon’s neck. “An _unpoisoned_ leash does seem like a good precaution, doesn’t it?”

Theon swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Master.”


End file.
